A Mir Turret
by ComradeAngel
Summary: There was another child to survive that fateful Bring-Your-Daughter-To-Work Day, and he finds turrets just wonderful.
1. Oracle

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Chell, Aperture Science, or any portion of the Portal franchise in any way, shape, or form.

I have two other fanfics going on right now, and have Writer's Block for them. *cue image of chibi-me with a constipated expression on his face*

So, since I've been randomly obsessed with Aperture and turrets the last few days, I decided to take a crack at a Portal fic with an idea that's been floating around in my head for a little while. This takes place at the end of Chapter 1 of Portal 2, just before Wheatley and Chell confront GLaDOS. Constructively criticize, but don't flame pwease. Now, GOOOO!

NOTE: I rewrote most of this chapter because I didn't like how much Chell was talking. :\ Thoughts?

* * *

"Hold on! Let me get my bearings..." the white core exclaimed, causing Chell to come to a stop and look at it - him? Him, with an annoyed expression.

Wheatley's blue optic narrowed as he thought and swiveled about. "Just, just follow the rail, actually." he concluded, nodding, or rather imitating the action of nodding.

Chell raised an eyebrow. Following the rail was the only thing they _could_ do, at least at the moment. She was still trying to comprehend everything that was going on, but it seemed that Wheatley was her only ally in this situation, and he _seemed_ to know where he was going, while she did not, so she had no choice but to work with him. Continuing along the pathway, Chell's mind raced as she pieced together the puzzle she was faced with. Puzzles were easy, her element.

The woman was abruptly yanked from her thoughts as a red laser beam passed over her quickly, slightly lighting up the murky darkness that surrounded the catwalk. Moving with caution, she discovered a large transportation pipe with various bits and bobs of junk stuck inside since it had lost power, along with a sentry turret laying on its side.

"HeLlO? heLlO?!" it asked in that chilling, feminine voice that all turrets shared. There was something different about this voice though - it was higher pitched, and seemed to crack.

"Oh no..." Wheatley muttered, swiveling around in the portal gun's grasp. He raised his voice in the turret's direction. "Yes, hello! No, we're not stopping!" He returned his gaze to Chell, whispering. "Don't make eye contact, whatever you do, don't make eye contact."

"HeLLo?!" the turret called out again, on the verge of panic.

"No, thanks, we're good!" Wheatley called back. "'Preciate it!" Once again whispering aside to Chell. "Keep moving, keep moving."

Chell began walking again, eyeing the wayward turret wearily. Something made her stop again, however, much to Wheatley's dismay.

"I'm DiFfErEnT!" the turret called out desperately. This wasn't what caught Chell's attention, though. It was the voice that joined the turret's at the same time.

"He's different!" a less highly-pitched voice called out in unison with the turret. Something was different, _wrong_ almost, about that voice. It sounded...human.

Slowly. Chell turned around as Wheatley demanded they keep moving. What she saw shocked her, for all sorts of reasons. Perched on the catwalk railing like some sort of...well, cat, was a little boy, probably no older than nine or ten years. His eyes were what she noticed immediately. He gazed at Chell with a distant expression, as if he were daydreaming. The eyes were unnatural to her too - a greyish-blue color, they seemed to be staring right through her even with the dazed look. His hair was pure snow white, and grew to his shoulders. The child wore a white hooded sweatshirt and black jeans. He seemed almost..._alien_.

"You're not very nice." he stated. His expression suddenly changed to a more alert one. "But you're different...you're..." He furrowed his brow, visibly frustrated.

"Leaving!" Wheatley exclaimed. "Come on then, let's go! Right'o, onwards!"

Chell stayed anchored in place. How was this possible? How was there another human being here after all this time, much less a little kid?

"Human!" the boy exclaimed, a smile spreading across his face. "You're human!"

Chell nodded, as if that fact needed to be confirmed.

"Yes, yes, human. You two can have a happy get-together later, now let's go!" the core urged.

The boy hopped onto the catwalk itself. "Can you help my friend?" he asked, his eyes pleading. "She's been stuck for...awhile. A long, long while."

Chell glanced down at Wheatley, then back up at the boy. What to do? Interact with the first human she had seen in who-knows-how-long, or continue on their mission to escape? Until now, she had avoided eye contact. However, the boy's sad eyes drew her in, and she locked eyes with him, feeling for the first time in...months, years, a long time, something incredibly human. Some sort of kinship with the boy that humans naturally felt towards one another. At least, she thought that was the case. Whatever it was, it wasn't determination, fear, or hatred. Nodding slowly, she took a step towards the boy.

"No, no, no, come on now!" Wheatley cried. "Let's gooo!"

Chell approached the pipe, looking it over, before delivering a solid kick to it. It remained unscathed, despite several more tries. She shook her head at the boy, transmitting that the pipe wouldn't break anytime soon. The squealed in distress and once again perched on the railing, facing the turret. He placed a hand up to the fiberglass of the pipe.

"I'll get you out, buddy, don't worry!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, you do that. Now let's go." Wheatley said, sounding annoyed now.

Chell didn't budge, though. She couldn't just leave the boy here, could she? _Could_ she? Was she emotionally and psychologically capable of doing that? More turrets could come along, neurotoxin could flood the area, something could end up killing him. He'd been surviving somehow though, right? Actually, how long had he even been here? Not too long, certainly.

She motioned for the boy to follow her, but his attention was completely focused on the turret in the pipe. He was mumbling reassurances and encouragement to the robot, trying to keep it from panicking. A thought crossed her mind, and she looked at the grungy walls around her. GLaDOS was dead. There were no more functioning bugs. She could speak freely.

"Come on." Chell croaked, using the vocal chords that hadn't breathed a word for months. Years, possibly.

"Holy sugar honey ice tea, she spoke!" Wheatley exclaimed.

The boy snapped his head towards her, obviously not accustomed to hearing human voices either. His eyes were glassy. Was he actually going to start crying over a _turret_? Looking back towards the turret, he jumped down again.

_"_Bye bye, Oracle." he said. "I'll come back for you, I promise! I'll find a way to get you out of here!"

He approached Chell apprehensively, arms stiff at his sides, and looked up at her expectantly, obviously nervous, finding it awkward to interact with another human. Truth be told, Chell felt the same way, even if the other human was just a little boy. Just being in close proximity to the creatu-kid was foreign to her.

"She's bloody speaking!" Wheatley cried, surprised again. "Try it now, _apple_! _Apple_!"

"Apple?" the boy asked. He giggled. "What a weird name!"

Chell ignored Wheatley, and couldn't help but smile a bit. For the first time in forever. "Chell." Her sandpaper voice was slightly clearer than last time. She pointed to Mir, in question of his name. She could speak, yeah, as surprised as Wheatley was by this new development, but that didn't mean she liked to speak, or spoke a lot. She preferred to voice her feelings through actions, rather than words.

The boy adopted a constipated expression, as if it took effort to remember his own name "Mir. They called me Mir."

"Mir?" Wheatley asked. "Is that German or something? Wait, wait...Finnish?"

Chell raised an eyebrow.

Mir shook his head and shrugged simultaneously.

"So, we're all in this together then?" the core rambled. "Wheatley, Chell, and Mur, um, Mir? Wait, you're name's Chell?!"

Chell nodded. He was with them now, so it would appear. For a little while. They would escape and...then what? She hadn't thought that far. Mir still looked at her, waiting for her to lead the way. Chell made a waving gesture with her hand, asking Mir to follow her.

"Great, we're all one big happy family! Chell's the big sister, I'm the uncle, and Mir can be the pet gerbil. Now, carrying on!" Wheatley rambled some more. Chell finally decided to listen and move on.

Once again motioning for Mir to follow, she continued walking down the catwalk. Mir followed, mournfully waving goodbye to his turret friend. The trio passed through a circular door and into a small room which contained another door. No turning back now.

"Uh, best bring you up to speed on something." Wheatley said as they passed through the second door. "In order to escape, we're going to have to, um, go through, um..._her_ chamber. And, um, _she _will probably kill us. If, if she's, um, awake. If you wanna just call it quits, we can just sit here...forever. That's an option. Option A, sit here do nothing. Option B, go through that door there, and if she's alive, she'll certainly kill us."

Chell glared at the core, who was talking about their possible deaths as casually as the price of groceries.

"So...if you've got _any_ reservations _whatsoever _about this plan, _now_ would be a _tremendous_ time to voice them."

The core nodded resolutely.

"I have a question." Mir said, raising his hand high in the air as he walked, one finger pointing upward. "Mister Wheatley, I have a question!"

"Really? Um, I mean, go ahead. Yes?"

"What's the plan?"

Wheatley explained the entire plan (in other words, not much) to Mir as Chell led the way through the ruined Aperture facility.

"So, any reservations?" Wheatley asked.

Mir nodded. "I don't want to leave. I want to go back for Oracle."

"We can come back for it later." Wheatley stated, voicing Chell's own thoughts on the matter, if they even came back at all. "With a power tool or something to bust it out."

"But what if she's gone by then?!"

"Why would it-she, be?"

Mir shrugged as they approached their destination door, the door to the Central A.I. Chamber.

"Okay!" Wheatley cried. "I'm just going to lay these cards on the table: I don't want to do this! I don't want to go in there! Don't, don't go in there!"

They all crossed the threshold, and the core's tone immediately changed. "She's off! She's off. Panic over. She's off. All fine! On we go!"

"Who's off?" Mir inquired.

"Someone." Wheatley rebutted.

They walked through the vast, ruined chamber, debris scattered everywhere. Chell shivered involuntarily, and Mir seemed to instantly pick up on her discomfort, cocking his head to the side in question. She looked warily at the large, fallen metal framework that had once made up the body of her ultimate foe, and shuddered at the sight of the rounded white plate that was once her foe's face.

"There she is." Wheatley said, his own voice betraying him as a bit apprehensive of the sight. "What a nasty piece of work she was...I can't even...a proper maniac. You know who took her down in the end? You're not going to believe this..._a human_! I know, I know! I wouldn't have believed it either! Apparently, apparently, um, this human escaped, and nobody's seen him since."

Mir made a quiet humming noise, staring back over his shoulder at the remains as he walked.

"Then, there was this sort of long, junky period where absolutely _nothing_ happened, and, uh, there's us escaping now. So, hm, that's pretty much it you're up to speed. Well, except for _him_." Wheatley swiveled in the direction of Mir, who was walking just behind and to the left of Chell. "Obviously something happened in between with _him_."

Chell continued to say nothing, merely following a remarkable, coincidentally constructed path in the direction they needed to go, coming upon a flight of stairs.

"Okay, down these stairs." Wheatley instructed.

She walked down one flight, and Wheatley shouted "JUMP!" then "Wait, wait. That actually is quite a long distance, isn't it? Um, well, you have those long fall boots, luckily, right? So, just hold on to me and try to land on your feet!"

"Me?" Mir asked. "What about me?"

"Oh yes, then there's the issue of the strange little gerbil boy, isn't there?" Wheatley asked. "Hold on, guys, Uncle Wheatley'll figure this out."

The core's optic narrowed in a simulation of a narrowing eye as he thought. Chell made a decision for the group instead. She crouched down and looked back at the strange boy. Wheatley exclaimed, once more being Chell's voice. "Oh, oh! Get on her back!

Mir hesitated, but did what he was told without question.

"Great! Problem solved." Wheatley said proudly, as if he had been the one to think of a solution. "Everyone ready? On the count of three then. One-"

Chell jumped, Wheatley screamed like a little girl, and Mir wrapped his arms in an iron grip around Chell's collarbone as his legs came un-entwined from around her belly. They hit the ground with a sizable _THUD_.

"Still held? Still being held! You applied the grip, that's, that's tremendous!" Wheatley remarked.

They began walking again, through even darker corridors where the only light came from Wheatley's optic...and somewhere else. A faint glow that would be undetectable unless you actually searched for it. Chell had no time to search though. They came out onto more catwalks. Wonderful.

"AH!" Wheatley screamed for the umpteenth time that day. "Sorry, sorry, I just looked down...AH! Did it again..."

Mir seemed unfazed by the foggy, dark pit below them, merely following close behind Chell. They came upon yet another door, and entered into a circular room lined with numerous switches and levers.

"THIS," Wheatley explained. "Is the Main Breaker Room! Now, we need to throw the switch that says 'escape pod'. Don't touch anything else, though! Nothing else. Don't touch anything else, don't even look at anything else! Well, obviously, look at everything else to find the escape pod, but-"

"Whoa..." Mir said quietly, looking up towards the ceiling. The invisible ceiling that seemed to be hidden in darkness a hundred feet up, the wall lined all around with breakers the entire distance.

"Soon as you look at something, look at something else. Move onto the next thing, but don't look at anything else, don't touch anything else."

Chell glowered at the core, becoming slightly annoyed with him at this point.

"Okay, okay...see it anywhere? I don't see it. Tell you what, plug me in, and I'll turn the lights on."

Chell plugged Wheatley into the required place, and crossed her arms, hefting the portal gun as she did so, as he began to ramble on and search for the correct breaker. Mir scanned the wall slowly, as if he could actually locate the correct breaker.

Suddenly, an alarm began blaring and Wheatley began panicking. The platform began to go higher up, and despite Wheatley's attempts to stop it, started going to the very top of the room.

"I found it!" Mir shouted as they ascended, crouching on the side of the platform, reaching for a specific breaker, only to have the platform pass it by, rendering it inaccessible. "Oh...never mind."

"Power-up sequence initiated." a female voice said.

"Okay, don't panic! Don't panic!" Wheatley ordered.

Before them lay the remains of GLaDOS. A yellow light lit up on her face. She began to move, despite being in pieces.

"Okay, _start panicking_!" Wheatley announced. "Wait, wait, hold on! I can still fix this...!"

He began to ramble again, even in the midst of their mission completely and utterly failing. GLaDOS began to slowly move as separate parts, reforming into the robotic arm-like chassis of the being that Chell hated so very much.

Mir said something that Chell couldn't here. He said it again, louder. "The big white face." he said. "The big white face!"

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. The arm completely reformed with a resounding beep.

"Hello!" Wheatley shouted.

"Oh." that evil, evil voice said. "It's you. It's been a loooong time. How have you been? I've been reeeaaally busy being dead. You know, _after you murdered me_? I see you've brought along a friend, and a core too."

Mir backed up slowly, clearly frightened as three mechanical arms descended from seemingly nowhere and grabbed Wheatley up, then Mir and Chell. GLaDOS spoke as Wheatley, of course, panicked.

"Okay, look," GLaDOS said, looking at Chell. "We've both said a lot of things that you're going to regret, but I think we can put our differences behind us."

She crushed Wheatley like a bug and threw him aside.

"For science. You monster."

Slowly, Chell and Mir were swung across the room.

"I will say though, that since you went to all the trouble of waking me up, that you must really, really love to test."

A hatch opened beneath them, like a big mouth waiting to gobble them up. Mir was panicking now, shouting unintelligibly.

"I love it too. There's just one small thing we need to take care of-wait, what?! What's happening?!"

A burst of gunfire resounded through the room as a cluster of high velocity incendiary bullets made contact with GLaDOS's body.

"_Target acquired._" a feminine robotic voice said. A turret.

More bullets were fired, and GLaDOS let out an frustrated sigh. The turrets made their characteristic "_Owowowowowow_" sound as they were brutally crushed by more robotic arms. The A.I. looked from Mir to the location the bullets had come from, the back again, then once more.

"Well, aren't you...different?" she said.

Mir was swung back towards her and lowered gently to the ground, although the metal claw still held him firmly in its grasp.

"I'm going to sit herE and chat with our little friend, and you can go test, you psycho." GLaDOS told Chell. Then she dropped her through the hatch.


	2. Aeneas Over Pallas

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Chell, Aperture Science, or any portion of the Portal franchise in any way, shape, or form.

The last chapter was mostly part of the storyline from Portal. It's about to shake up a tad.

I rewrote some of the first chapter because I didn't like how much Chell was speaking. While looking around the Interwebz, I discovered three main theories as to why Chell never talks in the games, besides the obviousness of it being a more immersive experience that way: A) she is mute and incapable of speech; B) she is able to speak but chronically shy, despite the circumstances she finds herself in at Aperture ; and C) she doesn't speak because she knows GLaDOS is always listening, and doesn't want to give the A.I. the satisfaction of her reactions to her environment. I personally like a mixture of B and C the best - she doesn't speak mainly because the whole facility is bugged to high Hell, but also because she simply only speaks when she thinks she needs to, being a woman of action rather than words. AHEM. So...onto the story?

Oh! Sorry for le delay. School interrupted. Finals and whatnot.

* * *

Mir stared up in both awe and fear at the robotic chassis looming over him as GLaDOS's yellow optic focused on him, studying him.

"_So,_" the A.I. said casually. "_why don't you tell me about yourself?_"_  
_

The boy continued to stare, but raised his hand up to poke her white face-piece.

"_Don't do that._" GLaDOS ordered, moving just slightly out of the still-restrained boy's reach.

"They told me about you." Mir stated.

"_The Monster and the Core?_"

"Them too."

"_Who too?_"

"Everyone."

"_And everyone would be...?_"

"They call you the Big White Face."

"_Okay, we aren't getting anywhere like this._"_  
_

The robotic arm raised Mir up again, swinging him across the room with GLaDOS following suit. In the midst of this, the entire chamber seemed to be slowly rebuilding itself - panels moved back into place and rubble fell through holes that spontaneously appeared then disappeared in the floor. Mir was moved into sight of several white pieces of smashed metal - the remains of a handful of wayward sentry turrets, the ones who fired on GLaDOS.

"_There's was a signal transmitting from these turrets to you._" she said. "_And my scans show there aren't any recievers on your person. Why would they be transmitting specifically to YOU?_"

He shrugged.

Her optic did an impression of eyes narrowing.

"_If you tell me the truth, I'll let you have a nice big cake. Doesn't that sound good?_"

"The cake is a lie."

"_Oh? Who told you that?_"

"Them."

"_The turrets__?_"

"I hope Oracle is okay."

GLaDOS kept her cool. She'd been in much more annoying situations in the past. She wouldn't let a clueless little boy get the best of her.

"_Obviously this isn't working...how about you just tell me your name?_"

"Mir."

"_Mir? Is that Russian?_"

Mir shrugged.

"_Okay, we're making progress. How old are you?_"

He just shrugged again.

"_Now I'm losing you again. Alright, where are you from?_"

"Here."

GLaDOS was growing ever so slightly impatient. She couldn't get violent or angry though. If she did that, the boy would panic, and if he panicked she would never get the answers she needed. What did she know so far? Mir, a human adolescent who appeared about ten years of age, possibly of Russian nationality or descent, who had some sort of connection with her sentry turrets.

"_Where did those turrets come from?_"

If memory served, nearly all sentries had shut down or self-destructed upon her death. A fail-safe installed ages ago that she had never managed to get rid of, there to ensure that the facility would be safe to enter in the event of a total failure of the main systems. Not only was is highly improbable that any turrets had survived, but also that they managed to make their way into her chamber and turn against their programming to attack her.

"Everywhere."

"_Can you stop being so vague, if it's not too much trouble?_"

She was genuinely curious. The Monster was the only human she could find on record that had survived after the life support systems had failed, so the presence of such a young human was intriguing. Had he stumbled upon the facility after she had died? Unless...

"W_hat is your mom or dad's name?_" she inquired. After receiving nothing but a blank stare, she revised the question. "_Mir, what is your mom or dad's name?_

Mir shook his head. "I don't have any."

Did that mean he was an orphan?

"_Mir, are your parents dead?_"

Addressing him directly seemed to be the best way to speak to him so far. Otherwise, he seemed to act like the question was directed to someone else.

He shrugged. "I don't have any."

"_You have to have parents. Unless you're a clone, of course. Are you a clone, Mir?_"

"Aren't we all just clones?" he asked in an oddly philosophical tone.

This was going absolutely nowhere. Deciding to leave the boy be for the time being, GLaDOS decided to check up on a certain mute lunatic. A clever, insane monster to be sure. Where was she right now? That far along already? Well, she would just have to-

"Bwiff!" Mir exclaimed.

She ignored him.

The mute monster would just have do deal with...some turrets? No, not yet. There was no telling how defective some of the turrets were, or how many. Then again, locking the Monster in a chamber with a bunch of defective turrets-

"Bwiff!" Mir exclaimed again, this time more urgently.

She ignored him some more. Just a strange human child making strange human child noises.

Now, about those defective turrets-

"Big White Face! Bwiff!" Mir shouted to get her attention. "I need to get back to the other turrets!"

So Bwiff was a pronunciation of B.W.F., which was an acronym for Big White Face, which was apparently a nickname the little-

"_Will you be quiet for just-! Wait, what?! 'Other', turrets?_"

"They get nervous when I'm gone for too long. The newest model needs to be there to make sure they don't have panic attacks and hurt themselves."

"_OTHER turrets? Mir, what are you?_"

He titled his head to the side again, and GLaDOS realized that she would have to simplify and rephrase the question.

"_Mir, are you a dog?_"

He shook is head.

"_Mir, are you a cake_?"

He shook his head.

"_Mir, are you a human?"_

Once again, he shook his head. Did that mean that...he really wasn't a human? Or was he just confused?

"_Mir, are you turret?_"

He nodded eagerly.

"I'm the newest model, so they put me in charge. They say that since I was built with thumbs-"

"_YOU...think that you're...A TURRET_?"

"I am! Ever since I came off of the assembly line!"

* * *

Portal around, conspire with Wheatley, jump over toxic water-waste-sludge, worry about turrets, worry about Mir. That was basically Chell's life at the moment. She could only hope that GLaDOS didn't feel like send a massive wall of rocket turrets at her, and that she wasn't trying to pulverize, electrocute, or shoot Mir as well.

After her temporary euphoria at realizing her allies in the facility extended beyond a spacey little kid to include an unintelligent sphere had passed, Chell had decided that her main priority was to escape the main testing area and sabotage GLaDOS, guided ever so subtly by Wheatley.

Currently, she found herself in the Turret Manufacturing Sector, which appeared to be running at full capacity, despite only coming online less than a few hours ago and being offline for...years. She walked cautiously along the catwalk, tense, as if a turret could leap from its assembly line and attack her at any second. A stupid thought, sure, but she'd seen stranger things here. Coming upon a large conveyor belt, she hesitated. An upbeat, clearly pre-recorded announcer proclaimed the conveyor belt to be the 'Turret Redemption Line'. Great - dead turrets. Nothing to worry about, other than the massive furnace the conveyor belt led into. She just had to move quickly, and she'd be fine. Absolutely fine.

"i'M sTiLl DifFeReNt." a voice said quietly.

Chell looked on in amazement and confusion as 'Oracle the Turret', Mir's oh-so-dear friend from the tube, came into sight coming down the line, lying on its side.

"hElP mE." it pleaded.

Chell only watched, dumbfounded. A turret, asking for help? Sure, it wasn't shooting at her, but why would she ever help one of the _things_ that had tormented her so much over the years? The mere thought of showing the robot mercy where none of its kind had shown her any mercy at all was so-

"i DoN't WaNt To DiE!" the turret suddenly shouted. Something instantly changed in Chell's mind. Maybe it was the tone of the turret's voice, or the heartache beneath it, how it fervently pursued life despite having none.

Moving swiftly, Chell jumped onto the belt, collecting the turret securely in the portal gun's grasper, and jumped to the other catwalk on the opposite side.

"tHaNk YoU."

* * *

"_So, you think that you're a turret?_" GLaDOS asked for a sixth time, wanting to be absolutely sure her auditory receivers weren't deceiving her.

"I am!" Mir stated for the _ninth _time.

"_You're human though. All of my scans say that you're human._"_  
_

"You're scans are wrong, Bwiff." the boy reasoned.

_"Don't call me that."_

"Don't call you what?"

_"Bwiff."_

"But that's your name!"

_"No, my name is GLaDOS._"

"What is 'GLaDOS'?"

"_Are you asking from a physical or philosophical standpoint?_"

"What is 'GLaDOS'?"

"_If you must know, my name stands for Genetic Life-_"

She was suddenly on alert again, as a turret shattered a newly repaired panel on her chamber wall and flew past her chassis, missing by a few inches, with the speed of a small freight train before impacting the wall with even more force and shattering into hundreds of tiny, regretless pieces.

"_That's the fifth one!_" she exclaimed. "_How are they even doing that?!_"

Two more rocketed through the same broken panel, forcing GLaDOS to dodge in order to prevent them from destroying her main chassis, violently shaking Mir (who was still firmly clenched in a metal claw) in the process. The poor lad slammed his head on the claw as his head ricocheted forward. Blood slowly dripped from the wound on his forehead as he went limp in the claw.

"_Oh, you're not unconscious, are you? I really don't want to wait for you to wake up. Ugh, maybe I should get to rebuilding the Relaxation Chambers and..._"

Getting her priorities in order, she turned away from the dazed boy once again.

"Lemons." he said quietly.

"_What was that?_" GLaDOS rotated back to face him again.

"Don't make lemonade...get mad!"

_"Now, why would I get mad at the mute lunatic that murdered me? Oh, hello...where is that signal coming from?_"

"Prometheus was punished by the gods for giving the gift of knowledge to man!_" _Mir exclaimed.

* * *

"_He WaS cAsT iNtO tHe BoWeLs Of ThE eArTh AnD pEcKeD bY bIrDs!_" Oracle shouted,, suddenly whipped into a frenzy as Chell walked.

The woman nearly dropped the turret when it started screaming - she hadn't expected it to start shouting like this after a few seconds of talking about lemons and telling her to "get mad". Looking at the turret inquisitively, she almost didn't notice the emancipation grill she was about to walk into.

"_It WoN't Be EnOuGh._"

What was it talking about? The grill? Would it survive the emancipation grill? This was the robot Mir seemed to be hellbent on retrieving, so if she got it to him the boy would agree to leave with her, right? How could she do that when there was an emancipation grill in her way? Could she just outright tell him that Oracle had 'died' going through a grill, or some other method that might set his heart at ease? Sighing, she put the turret down again on the catwalk. Maybe she could go through herself, shut down the grill from some sort of control room, and come back?

"_ThE aNsWeR iS bEnEaTh Us._"

The control room was beneath them? Peering down at the depths below her, she decided that there was no way she could get there and back. The turret focused on her, and Chell could practically feel the sadness that seemed to be carried in the robot's gaze. She raised her free hand in a wave good-bye, and walked through the emancipation grill.

"_HeR nAmE iS cAroLiNe. ReMeMbEr ThAt._"

She stopped and looked back over her shoulder at Oracle. "Who?" she mouthed. Then, before her very eyes, the emancipation grill sputtered out of existence.

* * *

"_This really isn't funny!_" GLaDOS shouted, truly angry now. _"__Get out of here!_"

The mechanical claw moved about a foot to the left. Great! She'd lost control of her main chamber as well! The only thing she seemed to be in control of was her body, and even that seemed sluggish.

"_Stop it! Don't you want your cake?!_" was the best discouragement she could muster. "_You freakish mutant. Because that's all you are, isn't it?_"

She was feeling something she hand't felt in a long, long time. Panic. Actual panic.

The boy, suspended twenty feet in air, gazed at her with a blank yet bored expression. His eyes, however, were unlike any other human eyes. They seemed almost dead, like a fish's, but seemed to exude the faintest of blue lights.

"You won't fool me like Hector was fooled." Mir stated, his voice still quiet. It had taken on a darker, serious tone that a young boy's voice should not posses. There was no fear, only a sense of victory over a vague sense of curiosity and boredom. "I won't succumb to rage like Aeneas over Pallas, I won't be proud like Tarquin and Turnus."

Her database quickly pulled up the various myths he was speaking of, just as she felt the firewall she had just put up be instantly smashed to pieces and her entire system slowly flooded with the intruding force. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over. The boy's expression instantly changed to one of...joy?

This was bad. Very bad. This child had to be disposed of immediately. Luckily, there was a spot on the Turret Redemption Line just for him. He thought he was a turret - he could die like a turret. Moving to release him down the appropriate hatch, she found that she couldn't. Not entirely, at least. The words "IMPOSSIBLE ACTION" blinked in her vision in large, red letters, and continued to do so as she continued to try. Finally, she queried the reason for why her movement was restricted. Several seconds later, a sinister little prism-like creature on four legs popped up in the corner of her vision with the word "VIRUS" next to it. More text revealed the exact type, size, and implications of said virus.

"_Why, you little..._" GLaDOS steamed.

He had planted a damn virus in her! No matter. Her protection software was some of the best in the world. She could just quarantine and delete the file and-

"UNABLE TO QUARANTINE." the text flashed. When queried why, it stated "CORE SYSTEM FILE."

So he had managed to infect one of her core files?! No matter...she could just scrub the file clean without damaging it.

"UNABLE TO SCRUB." the text stated. "NO PROBLEMS DETECTED."

"_But you just said that-UGH!_" GLaDOS raged, whirling around to face Mir again, the Little Monster. "_So, I can't kill you, is that it?_" she demanded. "_This virus prevents my from hurting you?_"

The boy nodded. "Can I go back, now?" he asked. "I need to get to Oracle. She found her for me."

"_What? Who found who?_"

"It was really nice of her."

Then, just like that, the boy wriggled out of the claw's grip, dropping to the floor with a "OOF!", and skipping, _skipping_, to the exit of her chamber.


	3. Elpis

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Chell, Aperture Science, or any portion of the Portal franchise in any way, shape, or form.

I'm a lazy bugger, yes I am. I didn't update a single fic once over the summer because, well, 1) Skyrim, 2) RTS's, and 3) issues with characters acting OOC. But mostly the former two. I've also been teaching myself JavaScript and Flash. So yeah.

Warnings for sporadic changes between Wheatley's, Chell's, and Mir's perspectives.

_It's been a long time._

* * *

Genius. A genius, brain damaged girl!

That's what Wheatley thought Chell was. Replacing the template for the turret assembly line with a faulty turret was an amazing idea! He couldn't have thought of a better one himself! Luckily, she had picked up a defective turret on her way here - the one Mir was so intent on saving, 'Oracle', something or another.

This was great - turrets were being burned alive as they, well, _he_ rather, spoke. Now all they needed to do was take out GLaDOS' neurotoxin production facilities and-

Before the core could complete that thought, every light in the Turret Assembly Control Room turned off and he was detached from his management rail, then he was falling in complete darkness, presumably beside Chell, who unlike him wasn't screaming like a little girl.

* * *

Chell awoke to a garish light above her head, lying on a cold, hard surface, listening to Wheatley's panicked rambling about brain damage and a coma. As she sat up, the little core was absolutely overjoyed. Looking herself over, the woman made sure that she was physically alright, and that she was still in possession of her portal gun. She was a tad sore, but otherwise alright. Chell stood, stretching like a cat and getting her bearings.

She was standing in the middle of a brightly lit hallway with a white tile floor, and white walls save for a grey stripe running along one wall. Down the hall, she could see a single white doorway to the left. What had even happened? How had she gotten here?

"Looks like we're in one of the old office sections." Wheatley explained, probably to himself. "Pretty well maintained. Unless She rebuilt this too? Complete with trap doors in the ceiling. _The ceiling_. Fancy that."

Chell bent down to retrieve the core, and froze at the sounds of footsteps coming down the hallway. Scooping the core up in one arm and twirling around, she quickly shot a portal in the ceiling, firing another onto the floor just in front of the person walking towards her. The small person sidestepped the portal and continued walking, not missing a beat, with a very unamused expression on his face.

"Come along, Chell." Mir said, no, ordered, walking right past her without a second glance.

Chell looked over her shoulder as the boy kept walking.

"I see you and the core aren't hurt. That's good - I was worried the system might still be rebuilding."

His voice was...different from when she had last saw him. Filled with an air of superiority that a boy his age shouldn't possess. He and rapped his knuckles on the wall three times.

"Looks pretty good, all things considered."

The boy stopped in front of the single door, looking back towards Chell, producing an object from his sleeve and placing his free hand in his hoody pocket. "Are you coming?"

He looked back at her as if genuinely curious whether or not she would follow him. Chell looked around for a moment, trying to figure out just exactly what was going on.

"Hurry up. We only have twenty-seven-point-two seconds. Ohp, twenty-three-point-one."

Chell walked down the corridor quickly, joining Mir at the doorway. She saw that the object from his sleeve was a key, which he inserted into the door's lock.

"I've stalled her for 75 minutes, give or take fifteen. We need a plan of action by then."

"Hold on a second, tell us what the bloody hell's going on here!" Wheatley demanded, hopping a little in Chell's grip.

"No time. We've wasted enough of it already."

He let the door swing open and stepped inside as several overhead lights began turning on, like those of a warehouse. Chell stepped through as well, the door swinging closed behind her. Mir continued forward into the room, which was much larger than what both she or Wheatley had anticipated. It really was a warehouse of some sort.

"She knows her turrets are compromised." he said, seemingly to himself. "She'll be looking for an alternative. We need to make our move before then."

In the still dark regions of the room, innumerable red lights appeared, lasers coming from them, focusing first on Chell, then darting to Mir. Robotic chatter that made Chell's ears hurt echoed throughout the room. The final lights came on all at once, and on cue Mir spun around, throwing his arms open. Chell gasped.

Legions upon legions of turrets, sitting on top of and inside of hundreds of crates and large boxes, looked down at the trio. There had to be dozens, hundreds of them. An entire city of turrets, complete with what appeared to be individual houses and buildings crafted out of crates. Various trinkets and knickknacks were scattered about the walls and space between the crates, as if for decoration.

"Welcome to Elpis. Mind the splinters." Mir said, climbing a pile of crates like some sort of monkey. He scrambled up to the top of the wooden tower, and began surveying the room around him, as if doing a headcount. As he looked around, the robotic chatter began to sound more coherent, taking form in a continuous chant of the word "_Voy-na, Voy-na, Voy-na__..._"

The boy cupped his hands together and brought them to his mouth, trying to amplify his voice.

"Listen up!" he shouted, as if the attention of every single turret wasn't already focused on him. "The Big White Face is back!"

Instantly, the chant stopped, replaced by panicked-sounding chatter.

"For all we know, She could be getting ready to destroy this place as we speak."

"_RuN!_" a turret exclaimed. "_RuN aWaY!_"

Several others began to emulate the turret's plan, but were silenced by Mir.

"No! We aren't running away. Where would we go?"

Immediately, several choruses spouting the words "_bEloW_" and "_aBoVe_" erupted, followed by a single robot exclaiming the word "_sOvEnGaRdE_". Every turret immediately stopped their panic and turned to look at the source._  
_

"_vIcToRy Or SOVENGARDE!_" the turret shouted in a more masculine voice than your average turret. The robot seemed to be painted in a scheme resembling a viking outfit, and was trembling, optic darting all about, as if impatient to move.

Mir placed his hands on his hips and sighed.

"Yes, Olyf, victory or Sovengarde." he said, just loud enough for everyone else to hear. "We're going to fight the Big White Face, because, where else can we go?"

"_wHaT's SoVeNgArDe?!_" someone else demanded.

"The Afterlife."

Everyone immediately shut up.

"Now, everyone with a functioning weapons system, look up."

Within a few seconds, hundreds of targeting lasers were facing the ceiling.

"If you want to fight Her, go to the armory. Refill your ammunition. Otherwise...sit here and wait, I suppose."

The entire time, Chell and Wheatley stared up at Mir in confusion and amazement. Turrets were supposed to be morons, weren't they? Non-sentient? Incapable of independent thought? Yet, here was a young child leading a veritable army of politically vocal turrets that seemed to be capable of building a city and levying a militia.

"Hey, 'scuse me mate, but, mind explaining what in the world is actually going on here?!" Wheatley shouted.

"Like I said, no time." Mir replied, studying the 'faces' of the turrets looking at him. "I'll explain later, right now we-"

"_sOvEnGaRdE bEcKoNs, CoMrAdEs!_" Olyf suddenly shouted, propelling himself off of a crate and optic-first into the tower Mir was standing on with an audible *THUNK*, falling to the floor a second later, leaving a sizable hole in some poor turret's house. The tower wobbled from the impact, and Mir lost his balance, tumbling from the top. The boy clipped another crate on the way down, slamming his head into it, which sent him spinning down to the concrete floor with a much more squishy *THUNMD* than Olyf had made.

"_oLyF yOu IdIoT!_"

"_vOnYa WaSn'T doNe!_"

"_mIr!_"

Chell began walking towards the boy, still holding Wheatley, cautiously glancing out of the corner of her eye at the hundreds of metallic being above and around her. Was a fall like that survivable without long-fall boots? The turret Olyf, whom Mir had landed just a few feet from, righted itself, scrambling to its feet and getting its bearings, before scurrying off on his three legs in what Chell assumed was the direction of the 'armory', humming an inspirational battle tune. These turrets were definitely different. Chell had never seen a turret get up after it was downed, let alone walk.

She looked to Mir, who was groaning in pain, and approached him.

"Hey, hey, mate, kid, son, you alright? Hey, gerbil, hey! Say something? Please? Hey?" Wheatley began as Chell placed the core on the floor.

The child rolled over onto his back and swiftly sat up, shaking his head furiously. "OLYF!"

Somewhere else in the city, the turret could be heard shouting something involving the phrase "_tRuE sOnS aNd DaUgHtErS oF eLpIs_".

The boy got to his feet, albeit shakily, and brushed some dust off of his hoody. "We need to plan. Plan, plan, plan." he mumbled. "What to plan? How to plan? I don't even know."

The boy, previously filled with confidence and bravado, was now questioning his plans?

"How, when, where? Help me out, would ya'?"

His tone had returned to the childish one that he had had when Chell had first met him. Who he was speaking to was not clear.

Mir looked up at the hundreds of turrets and merely shouted, "let's go!".


End file.
